


Trapped in a Fire

by Amari



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amari/pseuds/Amari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael’s decision was made. He was going to move on, and leave nothing behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped in a Fire

The smell of gasoline was stronger than he expected it to be.

Michael knew that there were possibly better ways to go about doing this, be he figured he’d go with what he knew would work. Bags packed and outside, money stored, refrigerator empty, he was ready for what was coming. The smell of the flammable fluid seeping into his wall and floors was proof enough of his conviction.

He was going to stay for a moment longer, trying to create a memory strong enough for him  to grab on to when he was to wake up again. The fume, however, made it too hard for him to breathe and he had to get out. Nearly hacking up a lung, he staggered out front. Even outside the odor was heavy in the air.

Gazing at the house one more time, he remembered everything that happened there. The people he’d met, their faces, their clothes, their words. Most of them had long forgotten him, so why did he bother to remember them? It was a question that plagued him every time he had thought about this. A question that still doesn’t have an answer. But honestly, it didn’t matter anymore. Just like him, it didn’t matter. A tear, a symbol of sadness, traced its way down Michael’s cheek. Dammit. He swore to himself, like every clichéd movie, that he wouldn’t cry anymore. He already said his goodbyes to the people he could, he made this decision, there’s no reason to cry.

He wiped away his last few tears, regaining his composure. He’d always been upset and afraid because of all the people that forgot him over time. But now, he _wanted_ to be forgotten. He wanted to leave, and make sure no one would be hurting long after he was gone. Burning down his house, getting rid of evidence he existed would help do that for the people he had left as friends. There wouldn’t be anything left, for even ashes blow away in the wind over time.

Michael struck a match, a little stick of heat that would change everything, and held it for a moment. This was his decision, his choice in his hands, and he let it go, stepping back as it fell to the ground. The gasoline caught rapidly, the fire sprouted and scurried along the trails of gas like rodents. It spread through the house in an orange rage, clawing up the walls like a demon trying to escape capture. The walls grew dark within the bright heat, smoke beginning to pour out the windows. The thick blackness was an amazing contrast to the snowflake-like embers that flurried out.

It was beautiful in a disastrous way. What he did was right. He was happy with this decision. Yes, he’d said everything… that needed to be said.

No he didn’t. His heart seized in his chest, reminding him of the one person he couldn’t say anything to. The one person he loved more than himself. This last moment. Oh god, where was his plushie? The little green creeper left that was his last connection, gone.  Not in his bags, how did he not pack it?! C’mon! Gotta find it! No, not there! Not here! Where is it!? He needed it, he needed it now more than anything, to let him know it was okay that he didn’t tell Gavin.  Oh god. No. Why? He remembered. He left on the bed, because he figured that he was okay with his choice, of not telling his boyfriend. He wasn’t going to bring it along, because he was moving on. Leaving EVERYTHING behind. But he can’t do it. He needs it. He needs it now.

Michael swallowed hard, knowing his next move wasn’t going to be an easy thing to do. He stood at the entrance to the burning house, which hadn’t been blocked yet. Pulling his shirt up, to create a mask against the smoke he charged in.

He really didn’t expect it to be so warm, but he didn’t have time to think about those things as he raced through the house. The snapping of wood was so much more ear-shattering inside the burning building. Somehow, possibly by pure luck, the stairs were intact. He rushed up them carefully, knowing that they might be more fragile in the heat. He hollered as embers spewed out and nailed him in the face. That was going to leave a mark. When he reached the top of the stairs a bone breaking crack sounded off somewhere in the house, followed by a quick shake. It was as if the house realized there was an intruder, for right then everything descended into hell.  Boards started falling down, the ceiling caving in. He was just so close, he saw the plushie, which was starting to burn. He grabbed it, trying to extinguish the flame, and managed to keep the burns on his hands to a minimum.

He turned, prize in hand when another alarmingly loud crack rippled through the house. He needed to get out, and fast. He made his way over burning boards to the stairs, the entrance in sight. He had a flicker of hope, but that gave out from underneath him, as a board broke beneath his weight. He fell awkwardly. His body, jammed in the between steps. One leg didn’t fall through the hole, and was dangling over the edge. The railing was metal, and already warmed beyond his ability to touch, there was no way he could grab onto it to pull himself out. He was stuck, there were no two ways about it.

Honestly, he was scared, he hadn’t the intention to die, at least, not this way. He clenched the stuffed animal tightly, he regretted it. Not getting the plushie, no, he was glad he had it. Glad he retrieved it. What he regretted, was never telling Gavin he was going to leave. And now, he was going to die in a miserable place. He just wanted to go back and tell Gav. That’s all he wanted now. To tell him he was sorry. At this point, Rebel was crying, heavily sobbing as his body burned in the heat.

A third crack, the loudest this time, came from above his head. He looked up and saw it, the ceiling was giving way, and it was all going to fall down now. He was going to die. It seemed like it was falling in slow motion, taking forever to reach him. He just wanted to crushed already. He smiled to himself, because in the end, he realized he got what he wanted.

Burning the house meant him getting rid of the memories of him, so it only makes sense, if he goes along with it.


End file.
